


between a dream and an eternity

by lover_of_the_light117



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Chloe Decker is a woman of action, F/M, Fluff, One Shot, Post-Season/Series 04, To get her man, chloe decker goes to hell, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25088575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lover_of_the_light117/pseuds/lover_of_the_light117
Summary: Chloe Decker is tired of crying. Fire and brimstone are nothing against this woman on a mission.Post Season 4.
Relationships: Chloe Decker & Mazikeen, Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 4
Kudos: 126





	between a dream and an eternity

Lucifer slowly wakes up, sunshine streaming through the windows and across the white sheets, and he gazes at Chloe, still asleep beside him. She looks like an angel—he would know.

He can’t believe he’s here. He glimpses a ring on her left hand; it’s onyx, like his. His heart feels heavy and full, and he breathes a shuddering breath, reaching out to pet her hair.

Chloe shifts and blinks lazily, sleep glazing her eyes. She gives him a beautiful, tired smile and says “Good morning,” to which he can’t help but say softly, “the best, darling.”

She gets up and stretches while his eyes rove over her body with a fondness reserved only for her. Grabbing a towel, she asks him to start breakfast and he half jokes, “What, can’t I join you?”

She laughs and reminds him of last night; the memories are fuzzy but fond. He gives in easily, finding an extra pair of sweatpants and cotton t-shirt which he dons before slowly descending the stairs, listening to the shower turn on. He takes a moment once he reaches the bottom to look around. Never in a million years did he imagine himself in this spot; it could never happen.

Never.

His gut twists, but he shakes it off, chiding himself for ruining a good moment. As he begins gathering the ingredients, Trixie cries, “Lucifer!” and runs into him for a hug. “Oof! Beatrice, why aren’t you at school?”

“When did you get back? I missed you!”

He scrunches his eyebrows together. “I…”

“Monkey, give him some space, we talked about this.”

She takes a step back and says something with a toothy grin, but his head is ringing and he doesn’t catch it before she bounds away. He turns to see Chloe, who gives him an apologetic smile.

He smiles back, but it’s wobbly. “I can handle a hug or two, Detective. Between your spawn and Miss Lopez, I think I’ve built up a tolerance.”

She snorts and her eyes sparkle, captivating him. He misses those eyes. But when she glances at the top of his head, she frowns. “Lucifer, you’re getting ash all over the stove.”

A stone drops in his stomach, and his fingers feel cold. He manages a weak, “What?”

She reaches up to brush something off his shoulders, and when she pulls back her hands are a chalky gray. She rubs her fingers together. Ash.

_Ash._

Chloe gasps, sitting up quickly.

White flecks, temporarily disturbed, fall like feathers around her as she struggles to her feet. She clutches at her head and blinks in an attempt to clear the fog that has settled there. Her limbs feel lighter than they should, but her chest is heavier, and she’s so cold. She looks around slowly, disoriented, and can’t make sense of the stone pillars that tower above her.

A slight force pulls at her heart, or what should be her heart. She hasn’t felt it beat once since waking, but she’s too tired to make sense of that. She takes a step towards the direction of the force, and the heaviness in her breast lightens ever so slightly. So she takes another.

It’s almost as if her feet don’t touch the ground, the way she moves. But she’s got momentum, now, and a giggle sounds from up ahead. Trixie babe. Her lips curl in a smile, but as she rounds a corner, white specks falling heavier than before, she sees a door.

She stops, smile wavering.

_“Whatever you do, do_ not _open any doors. You hear me, Decker?”_

“Maze?” Chloe calls out, looking around with wide eyes, but all she sees is the snow.

Muffled voices rise behind her, and she turns her head towards the door again. She knows those voices.

As she steps closer to the door, the pull becomes stronger, and she finally rests her hands against the heavy metal. Her detective instincts kick in—albeit slowly—and she leans forward to press her ear to it, eyebrows scrunching together.

It sounds like—like Ella? And is that Linda? They don’t sound distressed, maybe it’s okay, and her hand reaches for the handle until another voice chimes in, confident and musical, full of fondness—

_“Detective.”_

She jumps back as if she were burnt. “Lucifer? No…” A flash of wings brightens her memories, she could hardly see them through her tears at the time, but she knows what happened.

Something’s not right. Her first impulse is to check herself, rubbing her hands over her face, clothes, then her pockets, and stopping at what she finds. A glass vial dangles from her belt loop, and she carefully unwraps it, screws off the top, and gently wafts it towards her nose. No scent.

She brings it in front of her eyes and although there’s no good source of light, it’s as clear as water. A memory tugs at the back of her brain, but it’s unclear. She presses her forefinger against the entrance and inverts the vial, wetting the tip. Half her brain screams at her as she brings it to her tongue, but somehow she knows it won’t hurt.

Her first thought: _this is definitely water._

But it is quickly discarded as the fog lifts from her mind and her last moments on earth, _alive,_ rush back.

Holy water, lethal pills, heavy instructions from Maze, and a dagger—she reaches down into her boot and raises the gilded weapon from its sheath. It almost hums here in its birth place.

The door still calls to her, but she takes a wide step back and the voices moan in displeasure. The snow falls just the same, but when she catches it in her palm, she sees the truth of its nature. _Ash._ A shiver crawls up her spine and she shakes herself, rubbing her arms and legs to get it off, mindful of the dagger. She doesn’t want to think about where it comes from.

A dark, croaky chuckle sounds behind her and she whips around, raising the dagger in defense. Her eyes dart across the shadows, locking onto the figure that emerges. It almost looks human, but its edges are too sharp and limbs too long.

Mazikeen told her, in her final moments, that she wouldn’t be able to avoid the demons for long after rejecting the door. _“You have one chance to get this right, and don’t wait either. Repeat after me,”_ she instructed in that no-nonsense tone of hers.

Chloe raises her chin and says, “Tenz eh malgom rak nor Ven.”

The demon stops its slow advance and smiles wide, revealing too many teeth. “Oh, is that so?”

_“What does it mean?”_ she asked Maze, before.

She watches now as the demon circles her, turning with him, on alert. He rasps, “I can’t help but wonder how a dead human has one of Lillith’s daggers. Or why,” he continues, pressing a gnarled hand against the door, “my King is behind your door.”

She only tightens her grip on the dagger and meets his serpentine eyes. He’s fishing for more, but she’s done enough interviews with power hungry criminals to know that she needs to keep her cards close to her chest to keep the upper hand. Maze didn’t teach her anything else anyways, so she hopes it’s the right move.

He narrows his eyes and that wide smile twitches. “I see. Well, let’s not keep him waiting. After you,” he says, extending his hand. When she looks in the direction, she sees a lone spire taller than the rest and knows immediately where he is. It goes against every instinct to turn her back to the demon, but she doesn’t have much time.

She walks with purpose in her stride; she’s on a mission, after all.

_“It means, ‘I have a message for the King.’”_

Lucifer stares down at Chloe, fear and confusion dipping his tongue in an acrid taste. “I—I don’t—”

But when she opens her fingers, they’re clean. She looks up at him, and he’s lost in her deep eyes. “Thanks for making breakfast,” she says, then reaches up to peck him on the cheek before making herself a plate of bacon, eggs, and pancakes.

He can’t remember actually cooking any of it.

He watches her as she takes a seat at the bar and moves to join her. She catches him staring at her mid bite and rolls her eyes playfully. He reaches out and touches her hair. It’s dry.

Something is wrong, and he swallows a lump in his throat. A sudden urge to explain himself seizes him, and he chokes out, “I’m sorry I couldn’t stay, love. I’m so, so sorry.”

Her eyebrows draw together, and she rests a hand on his arm. “What do you mean? You’re here now. Everything’s okay.”

“No, I… I don’t think it is. You have to know, when the demons couldn’t have Charlie, they turned to you. And if I had stayed, they would’ve come back. I couldn’t let that happen, you’re too—” He pulls in a gasping breath and leans toward her, rubbing his forehead on her shoulder.

She holds him, and it feels like Grace.

“I have an idea: let’s go to the beach. I have the day off, and Trixie’s at school,” she says, running her fingers through his hair as his tears wet her blouse. “We can finally rest.”

He lifts his head to correct her—Beatrice is still here—but the blazing sun blinds him and he blinks his bleary eyes. The lazy push and pull of the waves dimly registers to him, but Chloe grabs his hand with a radiant smile and says, “Come on.”

His feet sink into the sand.

Chloe can’t hear the demon, but she knows he’s following her. She does, however, hear when a new demon wanders too close, compelled by curiosity at the human soul out of her cage. The snapping of jaws and ensuing growls behind her are vicious but quick, and she has two at her tail. There’s more hissing, and a third joins the pack. Her fingers twitch at Maze’s knife.

The trek to his throne is shorter than expected; either she’s covering ground at an alarming rate or the layout of Hell isn’t quite as linear as that of Earth. Her body feels no fatigue, but her lungs heave in an attempt to get more air on reflex. It brings no relief.

Looking up, she can make out a pair of white wings in stark contrast to the dark background. She only had a glimpse of them in all their glory, but her tears blurred the memory. Even now, she feels a pang in her heart. _Don’t go._

The rumblings of discontented demons behind her grow steadily louder—it seems the first demon can no longer keep them in check, if that’s what he was doing—and a clawed hand reaches out to grab the back of her shirt. She flinches, and chaos ensues.

Chloe runs.

She reaches the base of the lone spire as the crowd grows dangerously close from a quick glance over her shoulder. _“Lucifer!”_ she yells upwards.

Nothing.

If they catch her—it would be over. She’d be stuck in Hell with Lucifer none the wiser, leaving her family and friends alone, and they’d all suffer. _Not on my watch._

She rolls her shoulders and grabs the rocky ledge, lifting herself off the ground and towards her salvation. The vertical climb would have daunted her in life, but she refuses to look down. Though as the path to the spire was miraculously short, the climb to the top seems endless.

The pack of demons screams in outrage as they watch the spirit desecrate their King’s throne, yet he does not stir. They climb in pursuit, clawing at one another on their way up. A front-runner grasps at her boot, and she kicks it in the horned head. More take its place, and she sacrifices a handhold to crack the top of the vial of holy water against the stone and let it drip onto the closest victims. Their agonized shrieks reverberate through her bones like nails against a chalkboard.

She’s run out of time.

“Lucifer, please!” she cries over the sounds of the demons.

His feet feel like lead as he follows her to the water. He recognizes this place; it’s where he emerged from Hell for the last time. Was it truly the last? He can’t remember.

“Detective—”

_“Lucifer!”_

He jumps at her scream, so out of place with the peace of the ocean, but she just smiles at him and wades deeper. The air chills and the golden light that once framed her face dims as roiling clouds cover the sun.

“Chloe, please wait,” he tries weakly.

She tilts her head and the wind picks up, whipping her hair around. “Is this how you get to Hell, Lucifer?” The cold water laps at her thighs.

“No!” His wings emerge as his fear spikes. “You need to come back here, Chloe, it’s not safe.”

He takes a step forward, but the wind catches his feathers and carries him upwards with an unnatural strength. A strangled noise comes from his throat, and he can only watch in horror as a strong wave crashes over her, dragging her under.

She sputters to the surface as he struggles against the wind, and from below he hears her cry, “Lucifer, please!”

Thunder growls and lightning shrieks in the background, a dangerous storm. He’s paralyzed as her blonde head sinks beneath the waves, screaming for the last time.

“LUCIFER!”

The thunder growls, but there is no thunder. Lucifer blinks from his dream turned nightmare, grasping the throne with a strength that turns his knuckles white. His wings are lifted, tense, and poised as if ready to dive at any moment. The lightning shrieks, but it comes from below.

There is no lightning.

He leans over and sees the demons in an unholy mass, raging against something. No, not something. Some _one._

His heart stops when he sees her. Chloe.

He wails in confusion, in fury, and falls from his perch. This fall, though, feels like an ascension. His wings flare at the last moment and beat heavily, knocking the demons from the spire, and he flashes his red skin with a fanged growl. They scatter.

A yelp turns his head, and he swoops to catch a falling Chloe. Her eyes are wild, though he’s sure his reflect the same. She grasps around his neck tightly and buries her face against his chest, gasping for breath she doesn’t need.

The thought shocks him further, and he grits his teeth as he carries her to a quiet corner, far away from the writhing pack of demons.

He lands near a cluster of old doors, crafted hundreds of years ago by the unholy land itself. His grip on Chloe is strong and steady as she shakes in his arms. He doesn’t let go, instead buries his face in her hair and inhales deeply.

“How? How did you get here?” he finally asks.

She had calmed with every breath he took, as if he breathed for her. Now, she looks in his eyes, reaching a hand up to stroke his face. He doesn’t know if it’s red or pale skin she caresses; he can only feel her.

“I missed you. We all missed you. And I couldn’t let you stay here—I don’t care what you say, or what your Father wants, or any of it,” she says with a smile, eyes wet. “You don’t belong here.”

He shakes his head slowly. “But how are you _here?”_

“Amenadiel and Maze told me—”

“Amenadiel? Maze?” He interrupts, suddenly turning to look over his shoulder at the spire they left behind, but never letting her go. He looks back at her with narrowed eyes. “They brought you here and left you to fend for yourself? With nothing but a— a dagger? And is that holy water?”

She rubs her hands up and down his arms as a fire blazes in his eyes. “No, Lucifer, I came here myself.” His brow wrinkles and she hastens to add, “Well I couldn’t have done it without them, obviously, but they were both _really_ against helping me at first. You can’t blame them.”

“Chloe, love, how did you get here?”

She blushes at the endearment but gives him the answer he seeks, treading lightly. “We called in one of the favors you had with a neurosurgeon.”

“Dr. Patton?”

“Mmhmm. Linda told me how you got the antidote for me, but I didn’t trust the defibrillators enough so we went with a different drug from Dr. Patton. I don’t have much time before Maze injects its counter agent.”

His eyes search hers, and he asks, “How are you in Hell? You belong in Heaven. There’s no way my Father would have stopped you.”

She pauses briefly. “I… Maze told me I had to feel guilty. I already did, so that wasn’t a problem.”

“It has to be a soul crushing guilt. It has to weigh on your shoulders, wake you from your sleep. You’ve never done a thing in your life to account for anything like that.” His voice grows more anxious with every word. “Why were you guilty?”

She tilts her head and palms his cheek, which he leans into.

“I hurt you.”

A keening noise sounds from the back of his throat, and he shakes his head, whispering, “No…”

“After you saved me, over and over again. Despite the pain I caused by just being near you.”

“Please, no.”

Tears threaten to spill over her cheeks, but she continues. “I left you when you needed me the most. I destroyed every semblance of trust we had between us, I made you—” her voice breaks, “I made you hate yourself.”

Suddenly, his mouth is on hers, simultaneously seeking comfort and quieting her speech. She melts into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck. His wings mantle around her as the kiss softens, and he pulls away too quickly.

“Chloe,” he pecks her lips again, “I’ve always hated myself. Since before I Fell, even though I didn’t know why. You,” he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, “you taught me to love.”

With a sob she pulls him down to her and kisses him, hard. The months spent apart crumble in this moment where they are together at last. In hell, with the fire and demons and brimstone on their tongues, she feels complete for the first time since he left her on that balcony.

“Come with me,” she says between breaths. “Leave this place, it’s not for you anymore. You belong with me. I’ll fight any demon or angel or anyone else who tries to take you away from me.”

He stares into her eyes and sees the fire reflected back. She means every word.

The air is thick with ash, moans of pain carry from the distance, and the ground shakes, new doors emerging with every tremble. The King of Hell ignores it all, wraps his arms around his Queen, and lifts his brilliant white wings.

They ascend.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written before we were gifted a Season 6. Hell yeah! Also, this is my first Lucifer fic so please be kind, and thanks for reading!


End file.
